Page 72 of When Sinners Fall
I back up a step or two as he advances toward me.
“You alright?”
I point to the bite mark on his forearm. The same forearm that’s still covered with thorn scratches from helping me with the wedding yesterday. “Did you cheat on me when you were gone? Is that how you got that?”
I saw the bandage before and assumed it was from an innocent injury. As innocent as anything can be with his line of work, anyway. Now my mind is swimming with images from the clubs he first took me to. All those women, and men, with their kinks and interests. I enjoyed it – I wanted that with him, but the red ring of teeth marks on his arm makes me feel sick. They aren’t big, so the only explanation is they are from a woman.
“Cheat?” he questions.
“Did you? I swear, Dante. That’s the line. I can’t do that again.” I’m shouting now, angry that we’re even having this conversation. “And I certainly can’t from you.”
I’m so mad at how much pain is coursing through me, because now that I've seen the evidence, even the idea of him betraying me with another woman is hurting beyond anything I've ever felt. It was only a niggling thought I couldn't get rid of in my mind before, but now… it’s crippling. Like someone is squeezing my ribs closed around my heart.
I thought Paul hurt me. But this feels nothing like that.
“You think I’d cheat?” His voice is so quiet, so soft, that it sends chills down my spine. I look at him and picture the hurt boy I so often defended and the grown man who stood in front of people for me.
“I don’t know,” I sob as tears start to brim and well in my eyes.
“You think I’d cheat!” This time his voice booms, and it makes me jump.Fear mixes in my blood, and the urge to bolt has me quivering. I glance towards the bedroom door, but he slams his hand against the wall, trapping me in place and stopping me from going anywhere.
His face is nose to nose with mine, but all I want to do is hide.
He trails his finger down my neck, over my breasts and stomach, to the belt around my waist. He notches it free with his harsh tug, and he rips it from my pants, tossing it on the floor. Next, he yanks the button loose.
“You are mine, Wren Bird. Nobody touches you except me,” he breathes in my ear. He runs his hand over my hair and pulls on it to tip my head up. “Do you remember what I told you about the junkie guy? Do you!” His grip pulls tighter, and I nod against it. “Tell me!”
I look at his eyes, searching for the boy I once knew – just a glimmer – to tell me he’s in there still. “You killed him.” My words are a whisper – a confession.
“That’s right. I killed him for daring to touch you. Just as I’ll do the same to anyone else. Your body belongs to me. You belong to me now, and the fact that you think I’d be with another woman disgusts me.” With that, his hand dips into my panties, and he shoves his fingers inside of me.
I catch my breath, and I’m mortified that I like what he does to me even like this.
“Your body knows who you belong to.”
It takes all the courage I have, but I force out the words daring to be spoken. “Say the words, Dante.”
“Careful, Wren.” He curls his fingers, and a rush of heat floods me, but I want to hear him say it. He doesn’t lie, so I need him to tell me straight.
“Did you cheat on me?” I ask again and close my eyes as a tear runs down my cheek.
He pulls his fingers from me and grips my chin. They’re sticky, and I can smell myself on him as he tightens his hold.
“You want a fucking word? You should know better than that kinda shit. I’d burn down this fucking city if anything or anyone ever hurt you. Do you hear me?” My mouth quivers, and my body trembles as he keeps tightening the pressure on me. “Do you need more? More proof?” He grabs my wrist and drags me away from the wall and out of the bedroom.
“Stop, Dante. It’s okay.” But he doesn’t listen. He pulls me to the smaller bedroom and tosses me on the bed while he starts pulling open the dresser cabinet. Things get grabbed out of drawers, but I can’t see what they are.
“Here.” He shoves a device in my hand, which looks like a gun, but with wires around it, and I see what it is. A tattoo gun. “Use that.”
He continues plugging things in and opening packets, setting up for something that suddenly terrifies me and freezes me in place. “You want some proof; here it is,” he grates, looking angry as hell.
I try to give the machine back as panic grips me, and my heart stutters wildly in my chest. “No, I can’t. I don’t know what I’m doing. I might hurt you.”
“You already hurt me when you questioned my loyalty to you. Nobody does that, Wren. No one. So you’re going to wipe those tears from your goddamn face, pull yourself together, and put your fucking mark on me. Maybe then you’ll stop with the questions.”
“Please, Dante. Don’t force me to do this.”
“I thought you liked it dark.” He gives me a wry smile for the first time, but it’s brittle, and I’m not sure how to make it better.
